The following Tuesday, the atmosphere at school was suffocating. The mid-term rankings were only forty-eight hours away, and the tension in Class 3-A was at a breaking point.
Rika stared at her Advanced Mathematics workbook, the numbers blurring into gray smudges. Her brain felt like a browser with too many tabs open: the 7-Eleven inventory, her sister’s pitying face, the way Rentaro’s hand had felt against her hair in the rain, and the complex integration problems she couldn't seem to solve.
Across the aisle, Rentaro was tapping his pen against his desk—a rhythmic, annoying sound that usually signaled he was frustrated.
"You're doing it wrong," he muttered, not even looking at her page.
"I haven't even finished the equation yet!" Rika hissed back.
"You've been on the third line for six minutes. You’re overcomplicating the variable substitution. Just use the power rule and move on."
Rika slammed her book shut. "If you're so confident, why don't you show me? Or are you afraid I'll actually learn your 'secret techniques' and leave you in second place for good?"
Rentaro finally turned his head, a challenge sparking in his eyes. "My room. Seven o'clock. Bring your notes, and try not to spill tea on my carpet."
At 7:00 PM sharp, Rika knocked on the door of Unit 301. She had changed into comfortable leggings and an oversized sweater, her hair pulled back into a messy bun.
When Rentaro opened the door, the room was already set up. He had moved his low table to the center, cleared of manga and figurines, replaced by two neat stacks of reference books. The smell of cedar incense and green tea was waiting for her.
"Sit," he said, gesturing to a cushion.
For the next two hours, the "rivalry" took on a productive, almost frantic energy. They didn't talk about their families, or the 7-Eleven, or the rain. They talked about calculus.
"No, look," Rentaro said, leaning over her shoulder to point at her notebook. "If you treat the function as a composite, the derivative becomes—"
"Oh!" Rika’s eyes lit up as the logic clicked into place. "It’s a chain reaction. I was treating them as separate entities."
"Exactly. You see the world in fragments, Shinozaki. You need to see the whole system."
As they worked, the barrier of the "Academic Cold War" melted into something else. They started trading tips—Rika showed him her mnemonic devices for historical dates, and Rentaro showed her how he visualized physics problems as 3D structures.
Around 9:30 PM, the silence grew comfortable. Rika reached for her tea, her hand accidentally brushing against Rentaro’s as he reached for a highlighter. Neither of them pulled away immediately.
"You know," Rika said softly, looking at the organized chaos of their shared notes. "I've never studied with anyone before. My parents always said that 'collaboration' was just a fancy word for 'relying on others.'"
Rentaro leaned back against his bedframe, watching the steam rise from his cup. "My old school was the same. If you weren't the best, you were a target. But out here... in this dive... it doesn't really matter who’s #1, does it?"
Rika looked around his room—at the superhero figures he carefully dusted, the books he actually enjoyed reading, and the way he’d made a home out of nothing.
"I think I prefer being a human with you than a genius by myself," she admitted, her voice barely a whisper.
Rentaro’s expression softened, the hard edge of his "loner" persona completely gone. "Me too, Rika."
It was the first time he had used her first name without a title or a sneer. The air in the room shifted, growing heavy with a new kind of tension—one that had nothing to do with grades and everything to do with the fact that they were less than a foot apart.
"Rentaro—"
The sound of a heavy thud came from the hallway, followed by the muffled shouting of a drunken neighbor. The spell broke. They both jumped slightly, the reality of their "paper-thin walls" returning.
"You should... you should probably head back," Rentaro said, clearing his throat and looking at his watch. "We both have the opening shift tomorrow."
"Right. Tomorrow," Rika stood up, gathering her books. She stopped at the door, looking back at him. "Hey, Rentaro? Even if I beat you on Thursday... I’m still coming over for ginger pork on Friday."
Rentaro smirked, that familiar, competitive glint returning to his eyes. "Bold of you to assume you're the one who's going to be winning. Get out of here, Shinozaki."
As she stepped back into her own dark apartment, Rika didn't feel lonely. She felt like she had finally found the one thing no textbook could teach her: someone who saw her, even when the lights were out.22Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡLZGZ1Lf9OG
and then Add to home screen.